Well okay, most of this is SEX, but not between the same people.
(Guess them all and I'll give you some sort of prize.)
My fingers close around the back of his neck and I draw him in for a serious kiss. He almost balks as my tongue slides over his lips, until I finally growl and pull back just enough to murmur with a considerable degree of sarcasm, "It might get a bit more interesting if you opened that bloody mouth of yours, John!"
“Did you steal my jacket?” he asks, wondering when she had time to put shoes on.
“No Jack,” she smirked, “this is MY jacket, it just looks like your’s…..Guess Why.”
“I swear to God, Sammy, if you got sex stains on my car, I’ll kill you...” I muttered.
"I hate you!" he hisses quietly, and this time I can't resist the temptation to tug his lower lip between my teeth and bite down until a fang elicits a groan that is not primarily an expression of pain.
Something wakes Jack up.
He blinks into the darkness, trying to place what has wriggled him out of sleep. A noise works its way into his consciousness. A soft moaning noise punctuated with a deep muffled back-beat sort of sound. Naked, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for the dark blue robe Ianto left for him the other night. Sliding its silkyness over his bare shoulders, he leaves his room and pads down the hall, his bare feet making no noise against the cool metal of the walkway.
He dips his head and captures a rosy nipple in his lips, teasing it with his teeth. Her back arches, pushing her against him and wisps of golden light dance from her fingers where they move restlessly against the skin of his back. The light swirls around them as if on unseen air-currents, cocooning them in a warm glow.
I wanted to taste him. Not just the blood, which forgotten by him, was weaving a brilliant trail down his collarbone. I wanted his skin, his hair, his sweat. I wanted to bury my face in his smell and savor whatever it was that made him…..Ron.
I forced myself to move slowly. I was quivering – my chance to taste him could vanish – but I didn’t want to spook him. Such things must always be done delicately. That being said, I was pretty sure he was caught up in it with me and was not going to flee.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the wellspring of red. He shook under my touch and we trembled together. He tasted of copper and cinnamon and skin. I flicked my tongue against his fluttering pulse and he gasped, his fingers running up my arms to
twist in my shirt.
Jack is doing that THING he does. The thing where he acts like he doesn’t care and would just as soon have an orgy rather than talk to anyone.